We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

Vermithor folded his massive wings first, landing smoothly on the Dragonpit. The colossal Bronze Fury lumbered into the pit, followed closely by Silverwing, who descended gracefully after him.

The Valarys family's dragonpit resembled the one on Dragonstone, where dragons roamed freely, building their own nests without chains. The emerald-hued Vermaxes and the ash-gray Arrax stretched their necks, letting out a roaring call toward the larger dragons nestled inside, before casting longing glances at Vermithor and Silverwing. Even Shadowmare, hidden in the shadows with its pale gray eyes, stared at the returning dragons.

Shadowmare had been growing at an astonishing rate. Its neck, body, and wingspan seemed to change daily, but its skeletal frame remained gaunt and bony—a peculiar and unchanging sight.

When Vermaxes and Arrax had first arrived, they were curious about Shadowmare, but they quickly grew wary and kept their distance. After all, this dragon's appearance was rather unsettling.

Valar slid off Silverwing first, patting the dragon's silver scales gently before turning and ruffling the hair of Rey and Lucerys.

"Flying is exhausting. Brother, is there mutton today?"

"There is," Draezell replied as he climbed down from Vermithor. The great beast turned its massive head, nudging Draezell's raised hand before lazily withdrawing to rest. "Good work, old friend."

"Once the dragons have eaten, send the leftover mutton to the kitchens. No strong drinks for any of you, either. Jacaerys included. Where is he?"

Valar fell silent, but Draezell's prohibition only extended to strong spirits—surely fruit wine or weak ale was permissible.

"Jacaerys is at the Laurel Tower," Rey chimed in quickly.

Draezell nodded. "Good. Lucerys, feed the dragons, then fetch Jacaerys. We'll dine in the Silverblood Tower."

Prince Lucerys gave a quick nod.

The dragonpit guards carefully herded a flock of sheep into the cavernous pit. Vermithor eyed the flock briefly, prompting the guards to hurriedly retreat.

A burst of scorching dragonfire engulfed the flock of sheep before they could react, incinerating them instantly. Waves of heat swept through the lair, yet the young onlookers remained unfazed, not even breaking a sweat.

Draezell watched as Lucerys stared intently at the roasting mutton, his eyes reflecting the flames, and sighed softly.

When Vermithor's flames finally subsided, only a heap of roasted mutton remained at the entrance of the lair. The two great dragons tore into the meat first, while the three smaller dragons quickly joined, devouring the charred sheep hungrily.

During the war, Vermithor and Silverwing had feasted on horse meat and even human flesh. Having sated themselves on the return journey by hunting a whale, the two older dragons ate sparingly now before retreating to their nests for rest.

The three younger dragons finished off the remaining mutton. Despite Shadowmare skeletal frame, it had an enormous appetite, growling at Arrax when the latter tried to steal its food.

Once the dragons were done, the boys cleaned their scales before heading back to the Silverblood Tower.

Dinner was already prepared when they arrived. Jacaerys, holding a hefty book, returned with a servant in tow.

Meals at Dragon nest were simple but satisfying. The main dishes were white bread and rice seasoned with sauce. Draezell had ordered rice paddies to be cultivated in the fertile Temperance Vale, and the results were promising. Accompanying the meal were roasted mutton, lamb offal soup, and a hearty stew of chopped sausages and onions. Fresh cabbage and fruits rounded out the spread.

The cooks of the Vaelarys family were skilled, ensuring the meal was so delightful that no one spoke during dinner.

By the time the plates were empty, the boys reclined in their chairs, content and full.

"Your Grace, a letter from King's Landing," announced Evens, the assistant maester, as he entered through a side door. He glanced at the sprawling boys at the long table, wiping his own greasy lips from his meal in the crow Tower—a smaller portion but equally satisfying.

"Thank you, I'll take it," Draezell said, sitting up straight and taking the letter from Ivens, despite having just been slouched in his chair, rubbing his stomach.

The moment he read the contents, a twitch formed at the corner of his mouth.

"What is it, brother?" Valar asked curiously.

Rey exchanged a knowing look with Lucerys but quickly averted his gaze upon meeting the latter's clear, innocent eyes.

Jacaerys, recalling certain court rumors, glanced at Draezell with concern.

"We couldn't avoid this day after all," Draezell remarked with a sigh. He glanced at Valar. "You're not off the hook either. This letter involves you too."

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me." Draezell unfolded the lengthy letter. "King's Landing is urging us to arrange our marriages as soon as possible," he said with another deep sigh. "They're afraid the Dornish will forge too many alliances with us through marriage."

"Marriage?"

"This letter lists eligible girls under the Iron Throne's domain." Draezell spread the letter across the table. "Lucerys, take Rey and head to bed."

Lucerys nodded, grabbing Rey—whose mischievous grin betrayed his amusement—and leading him out of the hall.

Jacaerys, however, stepped closer. Familiar as he was with noble lineages, the sheer number of sigils crammed onto the parchment made his head spin. He decided to focus on the most notable names.

The crownlands presented a plethora of noble daughters, though the choices seemed hastily compiled, as if the court was scrambling to fill the list. Among them were three girls from the Darklyn family of Duskendale, the eldest daughter of Lord Stokeworth, the four-year-old daughter of the Rosby lord, and even his sister. Also included were daughters from the houses Staunton and Bar Emmon.

Not a single familiar name.

Jacaerys stared at the list in bewilderment. Since when did the crownlands nobles have so many daughters?

The North offered fewer options. Lord Cregan Stark's regent, Ser Bennard, recommended his own daughter. Meanwhile, Lord Desmond Manderly of White Harbor put forward both his daughters and sisters as candidates.

Ser Tyland Lannister, not one to be outdone, proposed no fewer than ten girls from House Lannister, including his twin brother Lord Jason Lannister's daughters, Tyshara and cerelle. Jason's wife, Lady Joanna Westerling, also suggested several eligible girls from her own house.

The Reach had its fair share of eager nobles vying for alliances. The Florents firmly believed only their daughters were worthy of marrying a dragon-riding prince. The Rowans countered this claim, asserting they had two eligible daughters—both pure and beautiful maidens. Lord Tarly quietly suggested his second daughter, Sansa, as well as Diana Tarly, who already had a connection with Draezell and was still staying at Dragonstone. Lord Lyman Beesbury recommended his youngest daughter.

As for the Tyrells, they maintained their usual silence, given that their family currently had no eligible daughters.

Lord Ormond Peake, however, boldly proposed his three-year-old daughter, Myrilla, suggesting an engagement could be arranged in advance. Peake insisted his daughter was the most suitable match.

House Hightower remained notably quiet as their main line also lacked eligible daughters.

The Stormlands were far less subtle. Borros Baratheon bluntly wrote to King's Landing: I have four daughters; take your pick. Lord Caron and Lord Swann also put forward girls from their families.

Meanwhile, Lord Edric Dondarrion could only sigh over his predicament, as he had only one surviving son, Jon.

Draezell sighed deeply. Politics had a way of turning everything into a tangled mess. He was certain it wouldn't be long before Dorne sent a similar letter.

At the end of the correspondence, the king once again emphasized the alliance between their Houses, reiterating that if the royal family were to produce a princess, the preferred marital arrangement would remain with a Targaryen princess.

Draezell placed the letter over his face and leaned back in his chair.

He felt utterly exhausted.

At that moment, a piercing cry echoed outside.

Draezell immediately shot to his feet.

A dragon was approaching.